


my old flame

by smithpepper



Series: one-shots [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, OR IS IT, One Night Stand, Or Does It, kurapika is jealous, sex with feelings, stays on zevil island, stop flirting leorio, what happened on zevil island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithpepper/pseuds/smithpepper
Summary: Kurapika and Leorio catch up over a drink. Long-buried memories resurface.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: one-shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818457
Comments: 3
Kudos: 93





	my old flame

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you get tired of Big Feelings and just want to write some smut (rated M for consensual non-explicit sex)

You don’t want to go to the happy hour after the conference. It’s been a long, stressful day. You listened to dozens of boring speeches from former Zodiac members, made uncomfortable small talk for hours, and forced your way through two meals of mediocre catered food. If it were up to you, you would be promptly returning to your quiet hotel room just about now, where you would watch the cold November sunset from your balcony before taking a sleeping pill. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, and it can’t come soon enough. You have a mountain of work waiting for you at home.

But then Leorio catches you by the elbow as you’re both leaving a meeting. It was yet another Black Whale morbidity and mortality report, and everyone looks grim as they file out of the windowless hall. Before you can escape into the elevator, Leorio is tugging on your sleeve, and you can’t pretend to ignore him any longer.

“Caught ya! Hey! Kurapika! Didn’t you see me waving at you?”

“Oh. Hello,” you reply primly, stepping out of Leorio’s reach and shaking the wrinkle from your suit sleeve. “I must have not seen you.”

A lie, of course. Leorio is impossible to miss; his towering height and loud voice are unmistakable. And you were looking for him. 

“Well! Anyways,” Leorio continues, shrugging, “it’s been ages. Are you going to the mixer thing tonight?”

“I—“ you pause, looking away from Leorio’s earnest gaze. He’s so much taller than you remember. “I guess—maybe. We’ll see if—“

“Great! Let’s have a drink later, yeah? Would be great to catch up,” Leorio interrupts, beaming. Before you can muster up a reply or excuse, he’s gone, leaving behind a trace of familiar cologne.

_Presumptuous as always_ , you think, halfway between annoyed and nostalgic.  _He hasn’t changed._

You stand in the busy hallway for another moment, people talking noisily and streaming around you, until Cheadle jostles you along to the next meeting. It’s another bleak and boring topic, and you find your mind wandering back to the Hunter exam. It’s been a very long time since you spent any time alone with Leorio.

_Does he still think about it? Zevil Island? Or...no. It was just a distraction..._

“...and as we were saying, that the other Black List Hunters would surely agree, don’t you think...ahem. Kurapika?”

Cheadle is glaring at you. You have no idea what she’s talking about, but you sit up with a start and make a noncommittal sound.

This is exactly why it’s better to avoid Leorio, you remind yourself, fiddling with a Zodiac branded pen. You need to focus. He throws you off. 

* * *

Dinner is unappetizing: an obviously reheated pile of rice pilaf from lunch and a wilted salad. You push a fork through the food and half-listen to Pariston and Cheadle bicker about obscure Zodiac nomenclature, watching the red sun sink lower in the winter sky. Leorio isn’t here, and you feel a flicker of disappointment. Perhaps he’s leaving the conference early after all.

But no: he’s just sent a cheerful group text to the Zodiacs reminding them all about the happy hour. You take one bite of pilaf and throw the rest in the trash, feeling a bit nauseous. Is it nerves?It’s hard to tell. 

* * *

By the time dinner is over and you’ve returned to your suite to freshen up, you’ve almost convinced yourself that happy hour is a bad idea. You splash cold water on your face and straighten up to survey yourself in the gleamingbathroom mirror. Your expression is as blank and impenetrable as the stainless steel counter, but your heart is beating fast.

It’s not too late to avoid it altogether. Feeling suddenly exhausted, you cast a wistful glance to the large bed in the other room, piled high with fluffy down comforters and pillows. You could go to bed right now and sleep for fourteen hours.

How depressing.

When you turn back to face your unhappy reflection, you’re overcome with a strange feeling. You stick your tongue out at yourself and exhale a noisy sigh.

_Stop it,_ you tell yourself.  _Cut it out._ You flick the lights off before exiting the room and heading downstairs. 

* * *

The bar is crowded when you arrive. A bored-looking man in a white tuxedo is noodling jazz tunes at a grand piano tucked into the corner, and the air is thick with cigarette smoke and expensive perfumes. You scan the room for a moment before spotting Leorio.

He’s sitting with some girl, a long-legged Padokian brunette. From an objective standpoint, she’s very beautiful. She bats her dark lashes and laughs behind a manicured hand as Leorio drapes an arm around her chair and leans forward to murmur in her ear.

_Flirting as always._ You click your tongue and suppress a flash of irritation.

“What’ll it be?” asks the scar-faced bartender, sliding a coaster across the bar as you sidle into a barstool. “We’ve got a special tonight. The Bloody Eye. Campari and gin with a maraschino.”

It would be easy to lunge across the bar and snap his neck, but instead you clear your throat and look away. It wasn’t this guy’s fault. Probably.

“Martini. Dirty. Vodka. Thanks.”

He nods and walks away to assemble your drink. Your attention returns to Leorio, who’s now running a lazy hand up the girl’s leg as she talks. Her voice is high-pitched and loud, and it cuts over the rest of the chattering crowd. You chew on the inside of your cheek and watch the bartender shake your drink. Wasn’t Leorio a respected doctor now? Did he really still have to behave this way?

“Here you go, boss. Wanna open a tab?”

“No. Close it out,” you snap, watching Leorio nuzzle the girl’s neck. You take a sip of the icy drink and soften. It really isn’t this bartender’s fault. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. The drink is excellent. Thank you.”

“All good, chief,” the bartender replies amicably. “Tough day?”

“Something like that,” you reply with a shrug, handing over the payment for your drink and a 300% tip. “Here you are.”

“Oh. Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” he replies, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees the tip. “Cheers.”

You fish out your olive and pop it into your mouth, nodding. Over in the corner, the bored pianist has been joined by a singer in a glittery red dress, sashaying around with a microphone and singing in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like a cat meowing.

You pull out your phone to check your email, wondering how much longer you’ll have to wait until Leorio looks for you. Your inbox is empty, for once, so you spend a few minutes deleting old messages to kill time. The vodka is going to your head already, and you feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing at your temples. You should have stayed in bed and avoided all of this. Scowling, you finish the last salty mouthful of your martini and push away the empty glass. 

Ten minutes later, Leorio finally looks up from the girl and spots you from across the bar. Delighted, he extricates himself from her at once and leaps out of his seat. The girl looks disappointed. She finishes her glass of red wine and gathers up her purse and coat before stalking away.

You look pointedly away as Leorio approaches, trying to keep your expression neutral. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs.

Leorio looks much more grown-up than you remember. He’s wearing an expensive gray suit and glossy patent leather shoes and designer glasses, and he’s less gangly and more muscular than before. He looks good; he looks successful and almost intimidating. But when his face breaks into a smile, he looks like the same nervous kid you met seven years ago. 

Still, you’re frustrated with him. You’ve been waiting for almost an hour. If it were anyone else, you would have left by now. 

”You showed up!” Leorio calls happily, dragging a stool closer to yours and folding his long legs underneath the bar. “Have you been here long?”

“Leorio. It’s quite rude to leave in the middle of a date, you know,” you say by way of greeting, your face growing hot. “You should go apologize to her.”

“Hm?” Leorio replies, thumbing through a drink menu as the bartender hovers. “Oh. Her? I’ll have a Grand York on the rocks, please, and—what are you drinking, Kurapika? It’s on me.”   
  
“Um,“ you begin, raising a hand in protest, but Leorio mistakes your hesitation as feigned politeness and makes a dismissive gesture. 

“No, no, I insist! My treat. And the same for my friend here,” he says with a grin. “It’s been a long time!”

The bartender returns quickly with two glasses of amber scotch on ice. Your stomach lurches in trepidation. 

“Well. To old friends!” Leorio says, holding up his glass to yours. “I’m glad we both made it back here alive, eh? Cheers!” 

You clink your glass against his. As he drains half of his drink, you take the smallest sip possible. You’ve never liked scotch. It smells too strong and tastes like old leather. 

“You don’t like it,” Leorio says at once, watching you closely. He was always able to do that; he could always read you. You remember now. “D’you want something else?”

”No, no. This is fine,” you say quickly. “It’s fine.” 

“Okay! Just checking,” Leorio relents, and you both fall silent for a long and uncomfortable moment. The bartender glides by and refills Leorio’s empty glass. You bite the inside of your cheek and look at the floor, thinking of what to say.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Leorio says. “When was the last time we met up at one of these? York New two years ago? Or...no, it must have been Padokia the year before, right?”

You remember exactly when it was, of course, but do not correct him.

”Mm,” you offer, taking another closed-mouth sip of your drink.

“Wow! Yeah. Time sure flies,” Leorio replies. “Hmm. Yeah, must have been York New. Wow.” 

You can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s feeling just as stuck as you are. This is growing tiresome.

Fine. If he won’t address the elephant in the room, you will. You flick your bangs out of your eyes and sit up straighter. 

“So were you,” you say tersely, “were you _trying_ to irritate me? With the girl? Or...” 

“Why? Did it work?” Leorio asks, a smile tugging at his lips. You scoff and look away, and he relents, leaning closer. “Hey. Sorry. Didn’t realize it would bother ya. She’s a nurse I met earlier today. Nothing serious.”   
  
You shift your shoulders and take a sip of your drink. Leorio watches you closely. 

“So how’ve you been?” he presses, clinking the ice in his scotch. “Come on. Lighten up. It’s great to see you. Tell me about work.”

What is there to tell about work? Not much. You employ bodyguards and hire them out to rich idiots. It pays well and is nothing to brag about. 

“I’m running a private security firm,” you offer. Leorio looks relieved that you’re finally having a conversation. 

“Ah! Nice. Figured you’d do something like that. So how is it? You making the big Blacklist bucks?”

”I do fine,” you say, which is true. You do fine. “It’s not terribly fascinating. I’d...” you start, realizing that you actually do want to talk about it with another Hunter who understands. “I’d like to quit, to be honest. I’d like to do something more...”

”More what?” Leorio presses, crossing his legs and looking interested. “Is it too stressful?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Your work is so tedious that you could do it in your sleep. 

“No, no. I just...I don’t know. I admire what you’re doing. I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself.” 

To his credit, Leorio does not feign modesty. 

”I’m grateful that things are going this well. I spent much of last year researching, and it’s paying off. Winning the Netero fellowship was a surprise, but it’s allowed me to conduct a new experimental oncology study that I never could have afforded before.”

“That’s wonderful,” you say sincerely. “Really. What is the study focusing on?”

”Do you want the abstract or the details? It’s long.” 

“Details, if you’d like to share.” 

“Oh, good! I usually have to condense it,” he says with a laugh, and launches into a complicated explanation of the medical trials.

His eyes glow when he talks about his work. Your previous irritation with him melts away. That, and the liquor is going to your head. You smile at him as he finishes talking, and he smiles back immediately, recrossing his legs and leaning closer. The bar is emptying out now, and the noisy chatter of the crowd has dulled to a low hum. 

“Cool,” you say stupidly, and blush. Leorio laughs and touches your shoulder in a half-pat, half-squeeze.

“Yeah. Cool,” he agrees. “Heh.” 

The alcohol makes you feel emboldened and brave. You turn to Leorio and look at him intently, heart pounding. 

“Um. I was wondering...”

You pause for air. He clinks the ice in his drink and watches you.

”Yeah?”

“I...um.” You swallow over a lump in your throat. “Do you ever—I mean. Do you remember. On. On Zevil...that night during the exam? Or...um.”

You’re horribly tongue-tied, and regret saying it at once. “Actually, forget it. Never mind.” 

Leorio’s face shifts to something you can’t read; shock or embarrassment. The tips of his ears grow red.

”Sorry,” you mutter, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I just—“

”No, no,” Leorio interrupts, holding up his hand, “it’s all right. I kinda...I figured we would talk about it at some point.” He sighs and looks down at his empty glass. “I mean. It doesn’t have to...it doesn’t have to make this” —he gestures at the empty space between you and him— “weird, right? It happens between friends, sometimes, after all. We were just bored and young. It’s not like..”

“Right,” you agree at once, feeling your stomach drop.

_So that’s how he thought about it. Just friends._

“Yeah. Of course.” 

It’s warm in the bar, but you feel suddenly chilled. You pull your jacket closer to your shoulders.

”...but you know, I’ve always felt bad that it made things awkward between us since then. You know?” Leorio is saying, his voice oddly hoarse, and you nod in agreement. “I always wished we could have been closer. After you got sick, and everything. I regretted that.”

”Of course,” you agree too quickly. With a jerky movement, you drain the melted ice from your glass and stand up from your chair. “Well, I have an early flight tomorrow, so I’d better go. Leorio, it was lovely to see you. All the best with the trial. Take care.” 

”Wait, you’re leaving? Hang on—“ Leorio calls after you, confused, but you’re already hurrying out of the bar, across the carpeted lobby, and into the elevator, clutching your coat tightly around your middle and fighting back stinging tears of humiliation.

Why did you have to bring it up? It was obvious that Leorio didn’t want to think about it or acknowledge it. He was too busy with all of his beautiful women. 

You unlock your door and collapse into your unmade bed. The sooner you can fall asleep and forget that mortifying conversation, the better. You bury your face in the pillows, utterly frustrated with yourself.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, your phone buzzes. It’s Leorio.   
  
_I think you took my room key by mistake. Can I come check? What’s your room number?_

That doesn’t make sense. Frowning, you type a reply. 

_I don’t have your key_. 

Leorio’s typing bubble appears and disappears several times before his reply pings onto the screen. 

_actually I remembered where it is but I forgot I have some paperwork I need you to sign from today’s meeting—can you come by my room before you go to bed? Room 403_

“His exam number,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at the glowing screen. 

You sit up in bed and comb your hair behind your ears, deliberating. What paperwork did you need to do? Surely Cheadle would have given it to you earlier. Unless...

Somehow your feet carry you out of bed, down the hallway, and into the elevator up to the fourth floor. It takes long enough for your stomach to do several backflips. When you reach Leorio’s room, you stand in front of the door without moving for thirty seconds. As you reach up to knock, the door swings open. Leorio is standing in front of you in his shirtsleeves, tie undone loosely around his neck and hair falling into his eyes. Your mouth goes dry. 

“The paperwork, then?”

”Right,” Leorio nods, staring at your mouth, “the paperwork.” 

He steps aside for you to walk into the room. As you turn towards him, he leans down and cups your cheek. Your lips meet in a clumsy kiss. 

“Just...a few things to sign,” he breathes, and kisses you again.   
  
You kiss him back harder, grasping his bristly hair and pulling his face down to yours. His mouth tastes warm and salty and familiar.

You both stumble backwards until you hit the edge of the bed. You push him back until his head lands on a pillow. His eyes widen as you straddle his hips and stroke his chest.   
  
“I’m leaving in the morning,” you inform him, unbuttoning his silk shirt. He groans and leans up to kiss you again. “My flight is at eight.” 

“It’s eleven now,” he replies, pulling you down and kissing behind your ear. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you curl your toes in your socks. “So we have some time.” 

“You were trying to make me jealous,” you mutter in his ear as he flips you over and pins you down. “Weren’t you?” 

“So what if I was. It was the only thing that got your attention, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper, but now he’s unzipping your pants and stroking between your legs with his cool fingers, and suddenly you don’t care about anything else. “God...”

”You think I don’t think about it?” Leorio is saying in a low hiss as he touches you, and you grit your teeth and ball up your fists in the blanket. “I think about that night every fucking day. I think about it with everyone I’m with. It’s never the same as it was with you. Never...”

You can feel his erection pressing against your leg as he kneels over you. He strokes you faster, his heavy breathing hot in your ear, and the world goes camera-flash bright as you come.

You catch your breath for a moment before wordlessly turning over onto your stomach and guiding Leorio down. His cock brushes against the back of your legs. 

”Are you sure?” he asks, his voice hesitant and excited. “This is what you want?”

“Yes,” you assure him, desperate to feel him. You want it just like it was on Zevil lsland, Leorio driving into you and wrapping his arms around you. “Yes. I want this. I want you. Please...”

You both gasp as he sinks into you. Every nerve ending in your body sparkles with sensation. It’s even better than you remember. 

“Fuck,” Leorio gasps, pressing his mouth to your back. “Are you okay?”

”Yes. Don’t stop.”

You go slowly for a few minutes until you find your rhythm, but before long you’re both breathing hard again. You feel Leorio straining against you, and your thighs begin to tremble. 

“I’m close,” Leorio pants, “Kurapika, I’m close—“

He finishes with a great shudder and rolls carefully off of you before embracing you and kissing your cheek.

“Hang on,” he says, and goes into the bathroom to fetch a damp towel. He hands it to you and looks away politely as you clean yourself.

Once you’re finished, you nestle underneath his muscled arm. You’re both sweaty and sticky, but it’s nice to lie there together as your breathing returns to normal. Leorio’s eyes are half-lidded. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re not hurting?”

You consider that for a moment, scanning your body. You feel as though you might ache tomorrow, but nothing hurts now. You’re buzzing with adrenaline and endorphins. 

“No. Are you all right?”

”Fuck yeah. Sorry I lied about the paperwork.”

In spite of yourself, you snort, and turn to bury your face in Leorio’s chest. 

“You’ll have to come up with a better lie next time.”

“Noted.”

You’re silent for a long time, lost in thought. 

“Why did we never talk about it? After it happened? It’s been so long..”

”I guess...I just figured you were trying to pretend it didn’t happen. You weren’t easy to talk to back then, you know,” Leorio mumbles, his eyes closed. “It was hard to figure out what you wanted. What you needed. And it seemed like pursuing anything like that back then would have just...I don’t know. Stressed you out even more.”

 _But I was so lonely_ , you think. 

“I see,” you say instead. “I just...assumed you weren’t interested in me. That it had been mere boredom.” 

“No _way_. I was so into you from the moment we met,” Leorio says emphatically, kissing your head. “God. It was bad. Even Gon and Killua knew. Killua teased me about it forever, you know?”

”...Oh,” you say after a surprised pause. “Really?”

”Really. Ask him sometime,” Leorio says, and you feel better. 

Leorio dozes off, his arms going heavy. You try to keep your eyes open, watching the blinking red numbers on the nightstand alarm clock. A distant siren wails somewhere in the city, but you’re safe here. 

You decide that you’ll stay for another thirty minutes before returning to your room. Your flight leaves in the morning, after all. You haven’t even packed yet. 

* * *

You miss the flight, of course. You knew you would; you decided that you would miss it the moment that you took the elevator up to Leorio’s room. It’s all right. You sleep right through it and wake up at noon next to a snoring Leorio. 

Hungover and tired, you and Leorio put on last night’s rumpled clothes and walk to get a late breakfast. Your breath fogs in the cold morning air. You’re newly shy with one another in the harsh daylight.

”So. What are you doing tonight?” Leorio asks when the scrambled eggs arrive. “Wanna meet for a drink? It would be great to catch up.” 

You roll your eyes. He smirks, satisfied with his own joke.

“I suppose I could make some time,” you concede with a laugh. As your eyes meet over your mugs of steaming coffee, the bleak November day feels as bright and fresh as a spring morning. 


End file.
